


Golden Mouse of the River-valley

by Mommui



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, this is just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mommui/pseuds/Mommui
Summary: A series of short writings about Dandelion and surrounding characters. For Inktober, since I didn't feel like drawing. These will all be written in one-two days.





	Golden Mouse of the River-valley

Freezing winds swept across the white blanket landscape of the Spara hills, bothering the resting snow and forcing it up from its bed. The sky was a faint blue, obscured by the snow and frost in the air. Any paw prints left behind by traveling creatures were quickly erased and forgotten to the hillside. Dandelion shivered despite his golden fur that trademarked his name, suited much more for warmer, summery areas down south where the winters were little more than a nip. The mouse had pulled down his straw hat hoping to protect his head, but the only thing it did was create a nice, little platform for snow to sit on and make Dandelion glad he had sewn in a ribbon to ensure it did not fly off. Around him shadows dressed and disguised by the snowstorm moved about or simply stood in place, creating an odd pattern among the gales. Standing still in the snow, Dandelions thoughts drifted to home as his toes wiggled impatiently. What were they doing? What was for supper tonight? (He hoped it had nothing to do with eggplant.) Was Yam doing okay in the fields? Was Cauliflower messing with them again with his magical mysterious experiments in hopes of being some form of wizard, or whatever it was he called it. 

Suddenly, the mouse was snapped back to reality as a hand touched him briefly before dashing off in glee. “Come on Dandelion! Run before she catches up!” squeaked out Oakwood hurriedly. The heat of summer returned, the warm air and the smell and sound of goats and the faint smell of wildflowers invading every sense. Dandelion sprinted after the Oakwood without a second thought, the breeze brushing back his fur like a loose comb. Oakwood was older than Dandelion by a few seasons, his coat a fine fair brown like the bark of a willow tree. Elderberry was on the pair’s heels, growing more frustrated as they always seemed perpetually faster than her. One step ahead or just out of reach before the older boys sprint off again giggling. She was the same age as Dandelion, her white fur stained by spots of black like the dark purple stains of elderberries. The mousemaid huffed, voicing her annoyance as she trudged up Spara hill with her long skirt bunched in her hands, “Come on! I don’t want to be _“it”_ anymore! Slow down!” 

Oakwood looked at her from the top, his long shadow stretching down the grassy slope. “Then stop whining and catch us!” The mouse then stuck out his tongue. Dandelions shadow had a strange halo to it, the shadow of his straw hat that was still squarely sat on his head tied down by a thin ribbon. To be honest with himself he had semi-forgotten what they were playing, confused now at the few other children standing still downhill not moving, lest they be called out for cheating. He looked at Oakwood after pondering for a moment, “Can I let her catch me?” The older mouse looked annoyed, “No! I just unfroze you!” Dandelion blinked, “Oh.” Then he blinked again, and once again for good measure, turning back to Oakwood. “How long have we been playing again?” Oakwood chewed on this for a moment, along with a piece of grass. “Half the afternoon I’d say, only because_someone’s_ too slow to catch me!” He ran towards the other side of the hill then. This only spurred on Elderberry more as she huffed uphill at a slightly quicker pace now. “Hurry up Dandelion!” Oakwood shouted before going down the other side carefully. Once Elderberry finally reached the crest, she sat on the ground with her grass-stained skirt, filled with exhaustion from the run uphill.

Dandelion was still standing there, gazing over the field that the hill overlooked, populated by goats and sheep the village kept for milk and wool. The summer breeze moved the light over his soft fur, yellow dandelion heads peeking between the warm grass. The child was only wearing light trousers that many of the other villagers wore during the summer months, it was far too hot to wear anything more; especially when you had fur. Dandelion could see the walls of the valley continuing in the distance, the river that cut through the middle and the mill, the houses of the village (all of which he considered family, it seemed silly not to), the various small fields for personal farming, and his mothers farm which was attached to the field they were currently playing in. Every sheep and goat in it had a name, which was decided after a long series of arguments between various family members on what exactly they should be, how they should be pronounced, and if it showed respect to the recipient. 

Dandelion guessed this was also how he was named, perhaps after the dandelion beer his uncle Rootfoot seemed fond of.  
The mouse was going to consider this further when Elderberry jumped up grinning broadly. She was hoping to seize her chance at victory, when she tripped over her the hem of skirt. Rolling over herself, she crashed into the broadside of Dandelion and the two fell over the side of Spara hill! Elderberry held onto him, too scared to think of anything else at that moment. The world became a blur as the two tumbled down the slope to the ground, kicking up dirt, the occasional stone, and pricking themselves on a few lucky briars that happened to grow in their path. They only stopped when Dandelion rammed into a fence post at the bottom of the hill, headfirst. The two mice sprawled out on the ground, dizzy and content not moving. Their two tails were tied together in a tight knot. Dandelion rubbed his forehead tenderly, wincing strongly and feeling the desire to simply weep until an adult came and rubbed his eyes with a handkerchief and told him he was fine and to run along home for it was getting dark. It was not getting dark however, and Dandelion didn’t cry for fear of being teased by Oakwood who came running up. 

“Dandelion I told you follow me!” the brown-furred mouse turned his gaze to Elderberry, “and I told you if you wore your skirt, you’d trip over it!” The young mousemaid however was not paying attention to him but looking at the skirt he spoke of. Tears welled in her eyes as she sputtered out, “It’s got a hole in it now and all stained with grass!” Oakwood sighed, helping her up and dusting her off, “Come now, it’s just a skirt. The worst your mother will do is scold you for it.” She didn’t seem consoled by this however, “But its my favorite one!” Oakwood stared at her blankly. “You’ve got two others just like it and you can wash this one.” Elderberry rubbed at her eyes, pouting. Oakwood turned to Dandelion, who was still rubbing his golden head. “Are you alright Dandelion?” The young mouse stopped and looked sadly at his partially bent straw hat laying in the grass, then at the older mouse.  
“What were we playing again?”


End file.
